The Seven Fiancees
by WFROSE
Summary: The Spinoff Series from 'Easy Target', featuring the three lovliest hitwomen to aggrivate Ranma's life, as they tour the U.S. in search of the elusive 'R.S.'
1. Season 1, Pilot plus Episode 1

The Seven Fiancees  
  
  
  
  
A woman of Japanese nationality walked down the hall towards the two men. Her hair was cut short to a type of moter cycle helmet cut, with the front covering her face exept for a thin slip that widened the further down it went. The tips of the front of her hair had red highlights, scarlet red, angry red. Her sultry walk had shown none of that anger in her approach, accentuated by the tight black leather pants she wore, the leotard shirt, the small leather jacket that was forcefully rolled up at the sleeves and only came down to her mid-drift if it were closed, and the leather gloves with steel nuckles.  
  
"Uh, how'd you get in here?" The first man asked, unconciously reaching for his gun.  
  
The woman tilted her head sideways, as if it were a stupid question to ask, "I walked in."  
  
"You couldn't just walk in here!" The second man stated, "this is a restricted building! There are guards posted at the door! Christ, if they're not doing their damn jobs up there..."  
  
"Oh, they tried to do their jobs, and put up a valiant attempt, while they were at it." The woman put her hands on her hips, and her lips that could be barely seen smiled.  
  
"Huh?" Both men asked at the exact same time.  
  
"In fact.." the unwanted visitor checked her watch, "We should be hearing about it right... about..."  
  
Suddenly, the alarms in the building blaired to life, and before either of the guards could react, the woman with the scarlet tipped hair went into action. Her right hand shot out, trapping the guard on her left's right arm to where he was trying to draw his gun from his vest holster. The woman then spun back to her left, ramming her left shoulder into the guard that was on her right. His head bounced against the ground, and he down the hall from the force of the short charge, as the woman, still holding onto other guard's arm, pulled him around to her left. she then brought her left hand into play, grabbing the man by his right inner thigh. She used her brute strength and the momentum from the spin to hoist the guard into the air, and then slam him back down so hard, the ground shook when his back connected. The woman clicked her tongue, and walked down the hall with a casual stride.  
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In a gymnasium of some sort, a woman with her hair cut short, exept for a ponytail down the back, wearing a conservative men's style business suit that had been cut for a women twirled a thin six foot black whipping cane in front of her with her right hand. The three guards that she was confronting.  
  
Just as the first one drew his gun and pointed it at her, her staff shot out, straight into the barrel. The gunman tried to pull the trigger, but found the chamber jammed from the staff. With a jerk upwards, he was relieved of his gun. As the gun soared into the air, the woman quickly twirled her staff around, and made a backhand downwards strike , causing the middle gunman's gun to drop down, and shoot his partner in the foot. The woman then brought her staff over the middle guard, and brought the reverse end down onto the cheek of the first gunman who was still standing dumbfounded from being relieved of his gun. She then reversed the staff again, raising it in a fierce shovel, catching him in the chin, and launching in up and onto his back to land on his head.  
  
The third guard fell to the ground in agony, while the second one brought his eyes back to their advisary, who was standing there calmly, holding the staff in front of her for support. With a growl, he started forward, only to have the first man's gun land on his head. The woman watched the second guard's eyes roll into the back of his head, and fall backwards. Without giving it a second thought, she continued forward, stepping on the second gunman, while ignoring the cries of pain from the third.  
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A woman in a lavender trenchcoat slammed her right palm into the chin of the first guard, and the thrust her right elbow into the neck of the second one. She then brought her left hand up, and open handedly back slapped the first man, then brought her right hand under her left hand in a yin-yang pattern and back fisted the second guy with her right hand. She then brought he right fist across, and socked the first guy, and spun into a left back fist into the second guy, as he recovered and turned back to her.  
  
The woman in lavender turned to sock the first guy again, but instead parried his clumsy punch with her right hand, and then ducked. A fist soared over her head from behind, clocking the first guard and rendering him stunned. The woman reached her left hand down to her right hip, and pulled out a custom lavender-chrome plated Jericho handgun. She slammed the second guard's head against the wall he was constantly being rebounded off, placing the side of the gun against his ear. As she raised her right leg up for a sideways split kick to knock the first guy out, she pulled the trigger twice.  
  
The woman giggled, dropping her leg back down in a sultry manner; first bending it at the knee slowly, and then at the hip. She then slinked off in a sultry manner, as the second guard screamed from a split eardrum.  
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The man sitting in his office was climbing the walls at the alarm, wondering why in the hell anyone would choose to break in to the office building of his small, almost uknown specialized organization that was highly selective of its clientelle.  
  
He recieved the answer he truly didn't want, as his locked office door flew inwards, revealing three women right out of his favorite wet dreams, standing at the door.  
  
"Knock knock!" Scarlet mocked sweetly, with her hand still raised from 'knocking'. She walked in uninhibited, followed by Chef and Lavender.  
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The Three Fiancees  
Episode 1  
'The Hunt is On'  
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"Hello," Scarlet greeted with a sensuous tone, "We would like to file a report for a missing person..."  
  
The man behind the desk frowned, which impressed himself, as much as he was about to wet himself, "The Dallas/Fort Worth Police Department may not be the most proficient, but they are more suitable for what you're..."  
  
"No, we're quite sure you're the man we want," Scarlet grinned behind her hair, leaning over the desk and bringing her face closer to the thin, balding man with glasses.  
  
Mr. Thomas was very secerative about his job. Not many people knew of his talents, and prefered to keep it that way, as the ones who did payed handsomely for them, anyhow. For his duties, he employed methods that were rather... unorthodox and highly illegal which could bring him into trouble with more than one side of the line. With a straight face that had been practiced a great deal, he lied to the three women in front of him, "I'm afraid I cannot help you with that. I only offer consultation for network..."  
  
Scarlet reached over, and gently began to adjust the man's tie, "Mr.Thomas, if you were to be... oh... so cooperative with us..." the woman in leather leaned closer to the balding man's ear, "I'm sure we can... make it pleasurable for you..."  
  
Mr. Thomas gulped, as he felt his temperature rise. "Y-you could?" He said in a slightly high pitched stutter. Scarlet smiled lavishly, and leaned off the desk. Lavender and Chef then approached, with a brilliant smile and an emotionless mask on their respective faces. The woman in the trenchcoat pulled out a package of hot dogs, and removed one. She then laid it on the desk off to the side before Mr. Thomas, and began to stroke it suggestively with the flat of her hand. Her smile grew bigger, as she got the reaction she wanted from the man before her, and brought her hand away. Mr. Thomas jumped and screamed in a high pitch shrill, as Chef brought her staff in a one handed grip down HARD on the hotdog, never taking her eyes off of the man in front of her.  
  
"I'm pretty sure you'll find it extremely pleasurable if that didn't happen to yours," Scarlet stated with a sexy lilt in her voice.  
  
"I... I don't know what you're talking..." Before Mr. Thomas could finish, Lavender slapped another hot dog on the desk to have it slammed in half by Chef.  
  
Scarlet seemed to indulge in the girlish scream the man in front of her gave out, "Yes, the one we're looking for is named Ranma Saotome, he would have arrived here from Korea sometime four days ago. Japanese national, wears a ponytail, likes to probably wear Chinese style outfits, though not too positive on that. He may be traveling with a cute little redhead about twenty five years old that wears about the same style clothes..."  
  
"Please, I..."  
  
::FWUMP::  
  
::SPLAT!!::  
  
"EEEEEEEKKKKK!!!!!"  
  
"They seem to be getting anxious," Scarlet noted, idly, "I sure hope they don't run out of hot dogs..."  
  
"Alright... Alright, I..."  
  
::FWUMP::  
  
::SPLAT!!::  
  
"IIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!"  
  
"Girls!" Scarlet growled, earning a sheepish grin from Lavender, a derisive snort from Chef.  
  
"Ranma Saotome, four days ago, got it!" The heavily sweating man who was feeling sympathy pains in his crotch for the hotdogs repeated, almost breathless.  
  
"Oh, we knew you would help us!" Scarlet beemed at the near fainting man, "When can we expect an answer?"  
  
::FWUMP::  
  
::SPLAT::  
  
"EEEEEEEP!!!!"  
  
Scarlet glared at her companions. "We were going to have to do it, anyway, may as well get an honest answer out of him the first try," Lavender said simply. Scarlet rolled her eyes, and turned back to the man.  
  
"Tomorrow! I swear! I'll have him by tomorrow!" Mr. Thomas said at a rushed, nearly stuttering pace.  
  
"Oooh, we knew you wouldn't let us down. Here's the phone number at the hotel we're staying at..." Scarlet threw a glance back to her companions and mused over something, "Um, it would be nice if you didn't call till maybe noon..."  
  
"Noon, okay, noon." Scarlet nodded, and threw one last smile at the man. She messed with his centrifugal sculpture desktoy, before walking out of the office, followed by her two companions. Once they were down the hall, Mr. Thomas let out a weak whimper, as he relieved himself.  
  
"Ewww," Lavenger griped, wiping her hands on her bodysuit, "I they smell like those disgusting things!"  
  
"Get over it, you can wash your hands when you get back to the room," Scarlet commented, as she stepped into the driver's side of their rented dark liquid silver colored Infiniti G35, "Sooner we find Ranma and kill him, the sooner we can get out of this miserable hellhole of a country!"  
  
"It's really not that bad here," Lavender stated idly, earning a glare from both her partners, "What? Really, you're both just being too negative about this."  
  
"Lavender-chan," Scarlet stated with feigned sweetness, "Shut the hell up!" Lavender glared at the snickering Chef sitting next to her.  
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"It's not healty for a nice girl to be drinking alone." Scarlet turned a sideways glance towards the man sitting on the stool next to her in the hotel bar.  
  
"You're right, guess I should give up drinking completely," she responded, studying her concoction with a slight pout that was hidden behind her long bangs.  
  
"Heh, maybe you should," he replied with a bit of mirth in his voice, "My name's Dan, you?"  
  
Scarlet turned to face the man fully, and looked him up and down, before replying, "Not drunk enough, yet."  
  
The bartender snickered at the responce, earning a glare from Dan. "Hey, don't be like that," the would be mack-daddy continued, as if he was unconcerned about her reply, "You look like you could use someone to talk to. So what is it, man problems?"  
  
"Not really," Scarlet replied, taking a sip from her drink, "My and my girlfriends are just in the country, hunting for our mutual ex-fiancee who happened to be fianceed to all of us at once at the time, so that we can brutally murder him and take his genetalia as trophies, both sets of them." Scarlet then turned to the man next to her, "But with you here, I think we can forget about him, what do you think?" She hid her victorious smile, as she watched Dan fall off of his stool, crawling backwards on the ground.  
  
"Ah, I can see you'd want to be alone at this moment," he replied, before skittling away.  
  
"Sama..." Akane growled, motioning for the bartender to get her another drink, "He could have at least thought to take his damn wedding ring off..."  
  
"Men, can't live with them, can't procreate without them," the male bartender stated with a smirk on his face.  
  
"Yeah, it is not stopping a couple of girls I know from trying, though," the morose woman stated.  
  
"Ah, you got something against lesbians?" the bartender asked casually, sliding Scarlet's drink down to her, "I can't say I say the same, but that's just my opinion, really."  
  
"I can not say that I do," she replied, and then raised her glass, "Kampai."  
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"BITCH!"  
  
"SLUT!"  
  
"FRIGID"  
  
"SLOPPY!"  
  
"SLOPPY? OOOH, YOU, YOU..."  
  
Scarlet stood outside the door, listening to the two women inside swear at each other while brakine things. Her patience growing thin, and before it became completely worn, she knocked on the door, and waited for one of her partner's to answer.  
  
"CAN'T YOU READ THE DAMN 'DO NOT DISTURB'... Oh hey Scarlet..." Lavender, wearing nothing but a sheetcover around her body, finished weakly.  
  
"I haven't been 'disturbing' you for the last three hours. I've been downstairs in the bar, waiting for you two to finish up," Scarlet stated factually, "I think it's time you two wrapped up your fun."  
  
"You could have come an in at any time," Lavender said with a suggestive lilt in her voice.  
  
Scarlet rolled her eyes behind her bangs, "Look, I'm still jetlagged, and I just want to get some sleep without having to wind down, first."  
  
"Spoilsport," Lavender replied with a touch of humor, "I guess we'll take our shower now, and we will try to keep it quiet for you."  
  
"I would very much appreciate that," Scarlet replied in a weary voice, while stepping into the room, "I'll help you untie Chef from my bed, but I'm sleeping in yours tonight."  
  
Lavender pouted, but was willing to comply.  
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With an icepack over his crotch, though nothing had actually happened to it, Mr. Thomas scoured his resources, looking for the person of his current assignment. After seven hours of searching, he came across a match. A man of Japanese, or at least Asian descent, with a ponytail who had entered the country through means other than legal, being on US Soil without a passport or so, probably. He was also traveling with a hot Irish chick a head shorter than him. He couldn't come across anything other than the initials of his name, but they matched.  
  
"Mr. R.S., better you than me!" Mr. Thomas said to himself, as he began printing up the info for his current clientele. 


	2. Season 1, Episode 2

The Seven Fiancees  
Episode 2  
  
  
  
Around the Dallas Belt Road, weaving in and out of traffic at ninety miles an hour on a chrome colored 2002 Harley VSRC, a burly looking man with two day shaving stubble and a black cowboy hat headed for his reported destination. The early day's sun hadn't even risen yet, keeping the traffic thin. The streetlights along the road cast their luminese upon his own muscled frame which complimented his hog well. His shades that he wore even at night failed to hinder his vision, shimmering with it's reflection in a way that was only matched by the badge on his right pocket...  
  
Texas Ranger.  
  
Diamondback snakeskin boot braced against the ground, as the driver of the awesome hog motorcycle leaned to steer off onto an exit. He barely made it through before the redlight, and pulled into the parking garage of the building he was sent to investigate. The building that was earlier yesterday attacked by three elite class hitwomen. He parked his bike, just barely past the firelane, and dropped the cigerette that was almost finished from his mouth. He flexed his hands through leather bike gloves, more to relish the feeling than anything, and walked past the few scarce police that were on the scene this early in the morning.  
  
"So's wat's got all ya'll up in a ruckus?"  
  
"Ranger Kris," one officer spoke up, his voice almost in awe, "Wha-why are you here?"  
  
"Som'n gave us a call 'bout a few cute lil' Asian frails bust'n up this place. Ah had some time tah kill, thought ah'd put mah nose inta it." Kris's relaxed accent reverberated through the air with his light baratone voice, showing his utter confidence in himself, "So, whatcha got so far?"  
  
"From descriptions, they are high class fighters. One seems to be extremely strong, one extremely good with this thin staff weapon, and the other used better kung fu than you'll see in a Let Li movie. They approached a Mister... Thomas, Justin Thomas, asking for information of some sort. Mr. Thomas would not divulge what it was, stating it was something job related."  
  
"His business?"  
  
"Network consultant, a very good one at that, from his credentials."  
  
"Ah, can't say ah know too much about that, mahself..." Kris rolled up the sleeves of his dark brown flannel shirt, unbuttoned and displaying a tight cotton gray shirt that matched his stone gray stonewashed jeans, "but ah reckon ah'll go have a lil' chit-chat with ol' Mr. Thomas.."  
  
"If you would like," the officer replied, nodding once.  
  
"Hey, ah'm a Texas Ranger! Everyone's gotta love me!" Kris flashed a gleeming white smile.  
____________________________  
  
Scarlet, as usual, was the first to wake up, and checked the time; nine Forty-five AM. She was always the first to adjust to jetlag, and pretty much figured that her two friends and associates would be out for a while, yet. Scarlet pulled out a blood red and thin terrycloth robe, and went to the bathroom to freshen up for the day. After shower and shampooing, she added the scarlet streaks into her hair which were her trademark, and stepped back into the mainroom of the Presidential suite. She strolled to windows nearest to the bed, and decided that the two girls in the other bed had enough sleep.  
  
She drew open the blinds, allowing the sun's natural light to filter into the baige room, causing Lavender and Chef to stir in irritation.  
  
"Five more minutes, 'Kane-chan," Lavender mumured in Japanese, before hiding her face in the crook of Chef's neck. Scarlet had to look on the other two women with affection, the only time they ever used their old names was in private and still even more rare moments, like this. Their old names held a double edge that both cut and strengthened them. They reminded them of their old life, the one they were forced to leave behind due to various dishonors from the man they are now chasing, and they were the zenith of their intimate relationship. Three unlikeliest of friends, forced together through circumstance, and now bound to always remain together, no matter what. With a small smile, Scarlet, known in a past in what seemed a lifetime ago as Akane, allowed a small smile to creep over her face, as she sat down in a chair next to the bed, and watched her compatriots slumber the morning away.  
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Mr. Thomas knew how to live. Texas Ranger Kris had to whistle at the sight of the apartment complex, he was even tipped off that some of the Dallas Cowboys resided here. He had security let him in, and went to the specified apartment. A musical knock later, and the door opened.  
  
"Yes, may I-eep!"  
  
"Right day, innit, Mr. Thomas?" Kris greeted, tilting his hat in a friendly gesture. Mr. Thomas was frozen, his eyes staring intensely at the silver badge on his visitor's chest.  
  
"Ah reckon it's gonna be a scorcher today! Might I come in for a spell?" Kris blinked, and waved his hand in front of Mr. Thomas's face, "Allo? You at home?"  
  
The balding man snapped to attention, "Ah, *cough* *cough*, I, ahem, seem to be coming down with something. Perhaps you'll visit at another time?"  
  
Kris stiff-palmed the door, "Ah, don't you fret about me, Mr. Thomas. Ah'm tough as nails when it comes ta germs... hooo! Ah know ah'm in tha wrong biz!" The Texas Ranger observed the apartment, finding it lavishly decorated, large screen high resolution projection TV, computer apparently hooked up to it, state of the art stereo system with Bose cube speakers for the rear and side sound, and large Infinity speakers up front. He knew that was way beyond overkill, but it looked impressive, nonetheless.  
  
"Um, can I..." Mr. Thomas cleared his throat, and started over in a lower pitch, "Are you assisting with the incident yesterday? I'm afraid I've told the police all I could."  
  
"Ah'm pretty sure you did," Kris looked at the plush lazyboy, and then back at Mr. Thomas pleadingly. With a sigh, Mr. Thomas nodded, and then winced, as his guest literally threw himself onto the seat.  
  
"Ah, man, ah gotta get me onna these!" Kris lounged sloppily in the chair, before jolting up, and suddenly remembering he was there on business, "Oh, where are mah manners?" He leaned over, and offered his hand, "Sherman T. Kris, Esquire."  
  
"Um, Justin Thomas... is there something specifically you wanted to ask me about? I'm afraid I'm rather busy..." Mr. Thomas looked towards the clock, it was eleven twenty-three.  
  
Kris made a note that he was looking at the clock, he was in a hurry, "Well, apparently those three lovely girls that dropped by for a hospitable visit, ah was kinda hop'n you can tell me a little 'bout 'em?"  
  
"Well, they were all pretty beautiful," Mr. Thomas seemed to unfocus for a bit, Kris noted thatk the guy probably hadn't had a date in months.  
  
"Ah reckon so! If ya could help me find 'em, ah wouldn't mind gett'n a looksie mahself. They were ask'n ya for someth'n, right?"  
  
"Um, yes," Thomas replied, coming out of his daze, "I'm afraid it's rather delicate information for a client, I can't divulge that out without comprimising them, I apologise."  
  
"Comon... you can tell me!" Kris leaned forward in the plush seat, "Pleeeeaaase?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I cannot tell you that, as I take my client's right to privacy very seriously," Kris nodded, but wasn't paying attention to the words, as he was watching Mr. Thomas's eyes. The Texas Ranger noted that his host was glancing past behind him, to the table... on the corner, just in front of the laptop, there was a stack of papers on the corner of the table where he was staring...  
  
"Oh, ah thought if ah'd ask nicely," Sherman threw his hands into the air, "Ah well." He got out of the chair, and casually walked around the sofa, seeming to observe a small bas relief sulpture over the dining room table where the laptop was sitting. He just 'happened' to pass by the corner, knocking over the thin stack of papers, "Oh! Oh man, lemme gather these up for ya!"  
  
"NO! No, I'll get them, really!" Thomas stated in earnest, but by the time he could make it over to them, Kris had them all in hand.  
  
"Hmm, mighty fine read'n here!" Thomas froze, staring at the Ranger who now had a serious expression on his face, "I don't suppose you can tell me how ya got this info? I reckon some of it don't belong in your hands, look'n mighty private..."  
  
"Um..." Mr. Thomas slumped, "That's... that's what they were looking for." Before Kris could blink, his host was prostating himself before him, "Please! You don't know these women! They're evil lesbians or something! THEY WERE GOING TO WACK MY PENIS OFF WITH A STICK!!!"  
  
Kris did well to hide the disgusted expression from his face as one word flashed in his mind, "Pathetic". Kris's light and whimsical smile graced his face again, "Ah'll tell ya what, you gett'n paid for this?" Mr. Thomas hesitantly nodded, "Then, howsabout ah play yo' delivery boy? ya wouldn't haveta see those big, bad, scary women again..."  
____________________________  
  
Twelve ten.  
  
Okay, now Chef and Lavender were just being lazy. Scarlet sighed in slight irritation, but before she could wake them up, the phone rang, "Mosh... Hello?"  
  
"Ah, Nihongo-o, hanamashita ka?"  
  
Scarlet blinked, finding the accent rather peculiar, before she replied, "Yes, but if it's easier for you to speak English, I'm fluent in that, also."  
  
"Ah, that'sa relief. Ah only took a couple 'o semasters of it to get college credits in languages along with Spanish."  
  
"I'm afraid you may have the wrong number," Scarlet stated, "I'm sorry to have wasted your time..."  
  
"No waste on mah part. Ah reckon if you look as pretty as you sound, ah wouldn't mind talk'n to ya in person."  
  
Scarlet had to admit, he did sound kind of cute, "I am afraid I'm not looking, but thank you for the compliment. I will let you go so you can contact whoever it..."  
  
"You sure ya not look'n for some fella goin' by the initials 'R.S.?"  
  
"...."  
  
"Hey, ya there?"  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"In the lobby, nice hotel ya picked here!"  
  
"We'll meet you downstairs in thirty minutes..." Scarlet hung up the phone with no further reply, and quickly set to waking her associates up. 


	3. Season 1, Episode 3

'The Seven Fiancees'  
Episode 3; "Good Ol' Texan Brawl'  
This episode was brought to you by Pockey. You like Pockey, right? Am I even spelling 'Pockey' right?  
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The bartender made eye contact with Kris, and raised his chin to point behind him. The Texas Ranger turned, and found the three Asian women he had hoped to see, heading to the lobby bar.  
  
"Oh, gals, over here!" Kris quickly downed the club soda he ordered, and stood up to greet them. He noted the woman with the ponytail went completely on edge when she spotted him, while the one with the lavender hair looked him over curiously.  
  
The third one stayed all business. "You have something we had requested from Mr. Thomas?" Scarlet enquired with her most cultured and firm tone.  
  
"Oh, ya talk'n about some paperwork on some R.S. character?" Sherman asked, scratching the back of his head, "Sure I gottem."  
  
"Good, if you would please hand them to us..." Scarlet nodded to Lavender, who nodded back, and pulled out a thick stack of bills from the inside of her lavender trenchcoat. "Am I to believe there's a courrier's fee to be compounded with Mr. Thomas's service fee?"  
  
"Ah, I reckon I'll waive that fee," Kris replied, "As long as I can talk with a few pretty little things like you girls."  
  
Scarlet's face tightened slightly, "I thank you for your flattery, but I'm afraid we have other... commitments to make. If we could make the exchange, we will not trouble you any further."  
  
"We got a bit of time, he is pretty cute," Lavender stated, earning her a slap up the back of her head from Chef, "What? Just because you're not into beef..."  
  
"Ah... heh," Kris sweat-dropped at the scene and the comment, "Mighty nice of you to say, Ms... ya know? I never got any of your names?"  
  
"They weren't given," Scarlet stated, allowing a slight hint of irritation into her voice.  
  
"Ah, so ya gonna force me to take 'em?" Kris asked in a mirthful tone, "Sherman T. Kris, Esquire."  
  
"Unamused," Scarlet introduced herself as, "If you would, we are in somewhat of a rush."  
  
"Spicy little girls, ain'tcha?" Kris chuckled, before pulling a thick manilla envelope from inside his shirt, and stuffing it back, "I reckon if you want these, you're just gonna have to take 'em."  
  
"Why are you making this difficult?" Scarlet asked, as Chef started to reach behind her with her right hand, as Lavender's face became serious, and flapped the sides of her trenchcoat out behind her, freeing up her legs and revealing the rest of her body being hugged by a purple lycra catsuit.  
  
"Comon, I think a few girls like yourselves wouldn't mind a lil' horseplay."  
  
"If that is what you would like," Scarlet turned to Chef, "Try not to too much damage..." the woman with the scarlet tipped hair turned back to a smirking Kris; something about that confident smirk made him seem even more insufferable, probably because it reminded her of someone else, "...to the lobby."  
  
At the request, the woman with the ponytail shot her right hand forward, causing her collapsable whipping cane to unfold towards Kris. Before it could strike him in the chest, the Texas Ranger threw himself back against the bar, and then vaulted over it.  
  
Chef swore in Japanese, before leaping over it to meet her target. Much to her surprise, Kris caught her with one arm behind the knees and one against her back before she could land, and was holding her close to him to keep her from being able to get leverage to swing her arm holding the staff.  
  
"Don't mind having cute fillies like you leaping into my arms, but I think your friends are getting jealous. Here, why don't you go have a chat with them?" the cowboy stated, before tossing her right at an oncoming Lavender, "CATCH!"  
  
Lavender attempted to backpeddal, as soon as her partner's flailing body was launched towards her, but before she could even reverse herself, Chef was on top of her.  
  
Scarlet had used the bar side entrance to approach the Texas Ranger, who ducked wildly, just in time to miss having his head taken off by a heavy right side hook. Unfortunately, he couldn't evade the right side thrust kick to the gut that followed.  
  
The Texas Ranger slammed into the far end of the bar with the wind knocked out of him. They were right about her being pretty strong, she almost broke his ribs with that kick.  
  
"I'm pulling my blows at the moment," Scarlet commented, as she strode up to him, "It would be within your best intrest to end this."  
  
"Or not let you hit me again," Kris retorted with a cocky tone, while pulling himself back to his feet.  
  
"Ukyo... when did you get so heavy?" Lavender asked, while struggling with the other woman attempting to pull herself off her partner. Chef dropped her full weight back ontop of Lavender, for using her old name, and for the crack about her weight. She then pulled herself back to her feet, and growled ferally. That jerk was going to pay big time.  
  
Right cross, outside right hook kick, drop to a left inside sweep, mid-level left backfist, right uppercut, forward leaping right push kick, immidiately turned into a side snap kick to the head, and then turned into a thrust side kick to the stomach. All of it dodged with seemingly untrained moves, but incredible reflexes on the part of Sherman. Scarlet grit her teeth in fustration, recalling some of her sparring sessions with her ex-fiancee, or even some of her later spars with her partner, Lavender. All she needed was one clean shot... or at least provide enough of a distraction.  
  
Kris suddenly ducked the whipping cane swinging horizontally at the back of his head. The missed strike forced Scarlet to block it with the back of her right gloved fist. She glared in anger, more because the blow was evaded than her being almost struck. Lavender approached from Kris's blind side with a thrust kick, to which the Texas Ranger avoided by diving between Chef's legs, and rolling to get some distance.  
  
Chef spun around, twirling her staff around in a Heaven-six pattern, attempting to tag her current nemesis. She managed to back him against a table, and to finish him off, she spun to her right, raising her staff to the air. With a short hop as she came back around, she brought the staff down with all the force she could muster.  
  
Kris leapt up and backwards onto the table, spreading his legs wide to avoid the whipping cane that cut through the table. As Chef was recovering, he stared rather nervously at the slice in the table that was just two inches away from his crotch. That distraction allowed Scarlet to approach from his side, and tip the table he was on over.  
  
The Texas Ranger hit the ground, rolling on his side. He stopped face up, to have a lavender boot brace against his chest, and the sound of the safety of a handgun being released.  
  
Shortly followed, by the sounds of hammer triggers being cocked all around them.  
  
"FREEZE! DFW POLICE!" the head officer commanded and announced, with several of his men surrounding the four brawlers in the lobby.  
  
"Was it good for you, too?" Kris asked in a joking tone. Lavender closed her eyes in irritation, and tossed both of her guns to the ground. All three women raised their hands to the air in surrender.  
______________________  
  
"Youuuu girls are in trouuuuuuble!" Kris sang in the cell next to them, managing to irritate them even further than they realized he could.  
  
"You're in here with us, you know?" Scarlet stated with an irritated tone.  
  
"Once we get out of here, we suggest running," Lavender stated with her own low toned menace.  
  
"Oh, don't be like that," Kris stated, scooting closer to the bars separating his cell from theirs, "I'll tell you what, I had my fun, here you girls go." He pass the envelope through the bars to the girls, who stared incredulously at him.  
  
"Fine, give them to us now, when we're locked up behind bars," Scarlet seethed. Nonetheless, she snatched the envelope away, opened it, and looked through the contents.  
  
"Ah hope you don't mind, but ah sorted through it a bit. A lot of it was just useless stuff ya didn't need to know or prolly cared about."  
  
"That is our decision to make, and we would like you to stay out of our business."  
  
Kris nodded over to Chef, who stared at him balefully, "She don't talk much, does she?"  
  
"Chef's not very fluent in English," Scarlet stated, "Besides, I do not think you would like what she has to say."  
  
"Oooh, feisty!" Kris turned to look ahead at the entrance to his cell, "That R.S. guy you girls are hunt'n down, he's head'n up ta Oklahoma City, from what it said in there. Been there a few times, swing'n city with their riverwalk an' all. Ain't got nutt'n on our fair Dallas and Fortworth, but not much can compete, huh?"  
  
"It's flat and dull looking around here," Lavender stated.  
  
"Hmph," the Texas Ranger bristled at the comment, "Well, to each their own, I guess. Anyhow, just gonna tell you, off the I-40, up on... I think it's Council Road or someth'n, there's a club off the exit that you girls may wanna stop into. Had to visit there a few times when try'n ta get info, mahself."  
  
Scarlet stared indecipherably at the Texan for a good while, before finally replying, "Thank you for the tip, but also thanks to you, as we're currently facing several charges, I do not see how we would be able to capitolize on your generous-"  
  
"You girls are free to go." All three girls blinked, and turned to look at the jail guard unlocking their cell for them. "You can collect your belongings at the front counter. Sorry about the inconvenience, and I hope you enjoy your visit to our fair city."  
  
"See? You can't fault us for our hospitality, at least!" Kris stated with mirth.  
  
Scarlet gave perplexed looks to her partners flanking each side of her, and then gave Kris a curt bow, "Thank you once again for the assistance."  
  
"Ah, think of it as payment for the hard time I was giv'n ya. Hey, mebbe the next time you're in town, all four of us can hit some o' tha nightlife around here?"  
  
"Perhaps," Scarlet stated, before looking around his cell, and allowing a smirk to grow on her face, "Enjoy your stay."  
  
"Aw, now that was just evil!" Kris stated, as the three women walked to their freedom, "Ah like that!"  
  
After he was sure they were gone, his smile left his face. He turned slightly to the guard that had remained behind, and gave him a slight nod. It was returned, and the guard unlocked his cell for him.  
  
Kris walked out, and retrieved his wallet, gun, badge, keys, and cellphone that was in the box on the wooden table in the cell room, "Hey, that cell still smells like urine!"  
  
"Well, maybe if you would do things by the book, instead of playing the 'hapless prison mate' to get info from your tags, you wouldn't have to put up with it!" the guard quipped, as he folded his arms over his chest.  
  
Kris didn't comment, instead hitting one of the speed dial settings on his cell phone. He waited a few moments, before it was answered. "Hey! Yeah, it's me. Ah know, maybe when I get up there next month or someth'n. Listen, yeah, it's about him. Don't worry, I think I just found three pretty little pistols to point at his ponytailed head..."  
  
Kris looked to where the three hitwomen had disappeared to, "and I sent them down your way. How about you take care of them, and make sure they're heading in tha right direction?" 


	4. Season 1, Episode 4

The Seven Fiancees  
Episode 4: 'Ramen Western'  
This episode was brought to you by Meary, the greatest product in the world, Meary!  
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The velvet green BMW model 7 series pulled off the highway to the exit that was one mile ahead of the sign announcing the turn off to Council Road. After a turn to the left, the luxury car into the parking lot of a sizable green building, identified by the neon 'Shamrocks' sign on the side that could be seen from the road.  
  
"GET. OUT!" A femenine voice screamed out in heavily fustrated Japanese.  
  
A woman with pale lavender hair and a light purple closed up trenchcoat quickly stumbled out of the diver's side back seat, while a woman in a business suit cut for the more petite frames of a woman, with short cropped hair on the sides, and a long ponytail in the back bolted out of the passenger side back seat. They both glared at each other with undiguised malice, as the driver of the vehicle stepped out with obvious attitude.  
  
The final woman wiped one side of the scarlet streaked and tipped hair that came down to her chin and covered her face aside, tucking it behind her ear, so the other two women could see her irritation. "I swear, you two've gotten worse since we were teenagers."  
  
"She started it," Both Chef and Lavender stated heatedly, and in unison.  
  
"Just... just..." Scarlet growled, throwing her arms up in fustration, before calming herself down with the notion of business and cold vengence, "Those papers didn't have much in them, so we're going to have to look up this lead that courrier gave us."  
  
"We know what we're supposed to be looking for?" Chef enquired in her usual terse tone.  
  
"No," Scarlet replied, before covering her face completely with her hair, though her smirk could still be seen in the in the barely lit parking lot, "But we'll just do like in all those American movies, and ask the bartender."  
  
"Those were westerns," Chef interjected, not satisfied with the logic.  
  
"Well, we *are* in Oklahoma, right?" With that, Scarlet swaggered into the bar. Chef frowned, and shook her head, as Lavender walked by, snickering.  
  
The three Asian women entered the bar, immidiately assaulted by the heavy smoke within. True to her plan, Scarlet walked up to the bar, ignoring the stares she recieved from the regulars there; unaccustomed to seeing such an exorbantly dressed woman in their midst.  
  
Didn't take her long to catch the eye bar attendent, who raised his index finger to signal for a moment, before coming over to her. "What're you thirsty for?"  
  
"I'm looking for some information on a guy who might have passed through here," Scarlet replied in Japanese accented English that was attempting a southern American drawl like she had heard in many movies.  
  
The bartender stared at her for the longest time, "Whaddyou think this is? Some kinda damn western?" Scarlet leaned back in slight chagrin and embarrassment, before turning back to the chuckle behind her. Even over the cacophany of western music, beerbottles against wooden tables, and various conversations, Chef apparently heard the reply, and understood it enough.  
  
"This isn't a place for trouble, kid," the bartender continued, "I can't tell ya of anyone that can help ya with-"  
  
The sound of a bottle breaking drew both of their attentions to a large Native American with enough muscles to supply a small army with sufficent manpower, staring down a shorter Native American with long black hair that ascaded down his back like deep brown waterfall. The shorter didn't back down from the stare, as he matched the glare with the same intensity.  
  
The taller man allowed a nasty smirk to cross his face, as he removed his fist from the crushed beer bottle that he pound down into a flat ring of pulverized glass. "What ya gonna do?" the taller man asked in a raspy, menacing voice, "This inn't your territory, Indian cop, and you don't have anything on me."  
  
the shorter man surrepticiously reached his left hand to his back, where his preferred weaponry lay conceiled. "I'm not going to tell you what I intend to do," his reply came in a tone of relaxed confidense; a man who didn't seem to ever know the concept of fear. Though he reaked of confident determination, he did hold an air of wariness for the man before him, "but, you got the right idea to be worried about it."  
  
"Ah, hell," the bartender griped, "Those two assholes..."  
  
Scarlet looked to the bartender, and back to the scene that had everyone else's attention. He was obviously worried about the damage that was going to be done to his establishment. The Japanese woman decided that if the bar attendant was just being guarded about supplying information, maybe a sign of good will may loosen his tongue.  
  
"You got a lot of talk," the taller man sneered, before slightly shifting his balance to support his weight on his back right leg, "but, you're not telling me anything."  
  
The shorter man was already in motion, just as the taller man's right fist came soaring for his head. The punch was stopped, by the hatchet held in the shorter man's left hand, as his right hand was reaching behind his back. The aggressor suddenly braced his left forward foot flat against the ground, and then shot his right leg up for a Muay Thai crecent kick to the ribs. Before the kick could reach its destination, the shorter man's right hand shot out towards the ankle of the other man's foot, launching his second hatchet at it. The weapon shot by the ankle, before swinging around it, courtesy of the strong twine that was attached to the handle.  
  
The shorter man ducked under the kick, and spun to his right, while tugging at the end of the twine he had attached to his wrist. With a grunt, the taller Native American was tripped to the ground after having his support foot taken from under him. The one still standing came to a full rotation, while hurling the hatchet in his left hand in a sideways pitch at the floored man's head.  
  
The man on the ground didn't even flinch, as the hatchet buried itself in the floor just an inch from his head, but twisted to the sound of a steel toed boot stomping onto the embedded hatchet, disallowing it to be freed.  
  
"I reckon that nobody wants trouble here," Scarlet replied in a poor western accent that was well ruined by the hint of her nationality, "Why don't you two boys take it elsewhere for the night?"  
  
Scarlet was then flanked by Lavender and Chef; the former ready to open her trenchcoat to retrieve her guns, while the latter held her still folded whipping cane at her side.  
  
With a distainful frown, the man identified as possibly a police officer shook the twine attached to his right wrist, before jerking it back. The hatchet that was wrapped around the other man's ankle came aloose, and sailed into the waiting hand of its owner.  
  
"Heh," the taller man picked himself off the ground while smirking hautily at the other man, "Some other time, copper..." With that, he straightened out his flannel jacket that was cut off at his forearms, revealing arm wrappings, and walked out of the bar, shoving a few gawking pedestrians out of the way.  
  
"An officer of the law trying to cause trouble?" Scarlet enquired, removing her foot from hatchet, "You should know that this isn't the place for such things."  
  
With a twitch of his left wrist, the second hatchet returned home, to join it's mate in the back of the native American's jeans. "Actually, you did me a bit of a favor there," the man identified as an officer of the law replied, relaxing himself, "I wasn't actually expecting to meet him here. I was actually out here to enjoy a little peace and quiet."  
  
Scarlet nodded, before turning back to the bar, hoping the grateful bar attendent may be able to help her out a bit more. As she started to walk away, she felt a hand on her right shoulder. On instinct, her left hand reached across her front to trap the offending hand. Once she caught it, she turned around, ready to deliver a backfist with her right hand to the ribs.  
  
The native American quickly stepped closer to Scarlet's back, and dashed along with her rotation, before resting his right hip against the back of her right, arresting her momentum. "Whoa! I was just going to offer to buy you a drink in hospitality!"  
  
"He's fast, possibly as fast as Shampoo," The Japanese woman thought to herself. Scarlet let go of the man's hand, and stepped away, noting that both Lavender and Chef had their own weapons ready, along with several other bar attendants. "Thank you for the offer," Scarlet replied in an icy tone to ward off any suiters, "but I'm here on business."  
  
"Hmm, what type of business would that be?" the Native American enquired, curiously.  
  
"The type that's none of your business," Scarlet replied, not turning around.  
  
"Oh, that type of business," the officer replied in a dry tone, "Meeting someone?"   
  
Scarlet turned back to the man she had just stopped a few moments prior, "You are rather nosy, you know that?"  
  
"I've been told," the man responded, "Well, I'm an officer of the law, maybe I can help you for whoever you're looking for?"  
  
Scarlet paused in consideration, before speaking again, "This isn't quite something in your... jurisdiction, I believe the word is?"  
  
The native American shrugged, "Sometimes the way to get a job done is to work outside the law." He reached out his hand in offering, "Name's David Redmond, Reservation Cop for the Apache Nation in Oklahoma."  
  
After a bit more of consideration, Scarlet reached her hand out, and shook David's hand. 


	5. Season 1, Episode 5

'7 Fiancees'  
  
The black 70' model Plymouth Barracuda lead the BMW up the unlit pathway in the thickets of mesquite, cottonwood, and oak trees towards a largish log cabin, snapping twigs and branches audibly to intermingle with the sound of the engines of classic American muscle and refined European elegance. Both vehicles veered off onto a sidepath that acted as the driveway, before both cars' engines shut off.  
  
"Sorry, shoulda warned you about the path up here, it's a bit on the rustic side," David apologised in a tone that though was apologetic, didn't sound too embarrassed about the mistake.  
  
`"Everything about this state is 'rustic'," Scarlet commented, as she stepped fully from the driver's seat, watching her footing for anything that may be unsavory.  
  
"So, this is what American woods smell like?" Lavender replied in distain, twisting her nose.  
  
"Naw, that's just the out-house in the back," David replied, casually, as he shifted through his keychain for his housekeys.  
  
Scarlet, Lavender, and Chef all looked at each other. "Hotel," Scarlet and Lavender replied in unison, earning a nod from their third partner.  
  
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" The reservation officer quickly admitted, "Look, it's late, and I don't really want to have to hunt you girls down early in the morning, if you're in as much a hurry as you said you were. Just accept my hospitality for a night, It's not overly luxurious, but it's comfortable."  
  
Lavender was well against the idea of staying at the man's place, while Scarlet and admittingly Chef had a curiosity what a Native American's home probably looked like. At least something that would rid them of the 'teepee' stereotype.  
  
"Welcome..." Officer Redmond started, as he opened the door, "to my humble abode."  
  
All three women blinked at the site, not quite what they were expecting. Thought nowhere near their usual standards, it had a certain refine to the decour. Gray couches with thin turqoise verticle pinstripes covered with earthen brown thick fur on the backings faced a earthen fireplace, with a Japanese katana set on the stand above it. One one side of the fireplace hung a Portaguese rapier of a long forgotten conquistador alongside an Apache crafted bison hunting spear, while on the other side a morning chain, and a German halberd ax stood. Around on the walls hung various landscape professional photographs blown up and framed in cherrywood frames, while on the back wall, a large woven blanket of with stylistic depictions of native Americans hung. In the center, in front of the two couches, a stone circle with a hardwood top that acted as a table, while doubling as a center heater, apparent from the warm glow coming from the holes that were symetrically laden in the sides.  
  
"It's a bit eclectic, hope you don't mind."  
  
Scarlet looked around, before approaching the hanging blanket that depicted triangular and blocky representations of people; David's native ancestors, she presumed.  
  
"That actually a blanket from the Pueblo Indians. Picked it up on business in New Mexico," David supplied, coming up behind the raven and scarlet haired woman.  
  
Scarlet nodded, not sure of what he was talking about, before turning to walk towards the weaponry hanging around the fireplace. "Where is the TV?" Lavender enquired, puzzled.  
  
"Don't have one," David replied, with a shrug, causing the lavender haired woman to blink in surprise.  
  
"I thought all Americans had TVs..."  
  
Chef slowly sat on one of the couches, before slowly bringing one hand up to test the softness of the fur back covering, before turning back to look at their host. "So, can I get you girls anything?" David enquired, clapping his hands together.  
  
"What is it you have?" Scarlet enquired.  
  
"Beer," David answered.  
  
"And what else?"  
  
"More beer." was David's reply.  
  
"Don't you drink anything else?" Lavender enquired with a slight incredulous tone.  
  
"Yeah, when I'm off-duty. Then I usually drink something hard." David replied, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
"How about water from your faucet then?" Scarlet asked, earning Lavender's nod.  
  
David frowned, "If I had that, I would have offered it."  
  
Scarlet's frown deepend, as Lavender turned her head away to scowl. "Wait a sec, let me see if I still have a couple of beermugs, or something to hold your water in." David walked off into one of the halls, mumbling to himself.  
  
Once he was gone, Scarlet switched to Japanese, "I'm beginning to think this was pointless."  
  
"And you first clue?" Lavender enquired, heatedly.  
  
"This jerk's amazing! Trying to get all three of us drunk and in bed!" Chef growled, before shifting against the fur comfortably.  
  
"He'd probably use something stronger than beer if he was going to do that," Scarlet replied.  
  
"Actually, I just don't have anything stronger at the moment."  
  
All three women turned to find the reservation officer standing behind them with three beer bottles filled with clear liquid. "You speak Japanese?"  
  
"Nope, but I can tell when a conversation's turning against my favor," David replied, setting the bottles in front of the women. "Sorry, this was all I got. I washed them out, if that's any consolation."  
  
"Thank you," Scarlet replied, after studying her bottle for several moments.  
  
"This guy you're looking for back at the bar, have any ideas to who he was?" the native American began, sitting on the step of the fireplace, before taking a swig from his bottle of beer.  
  
Scarlet shook her head, "We just knew to go to Shamrock's, and he'd find us."  
  
"Don't know who told you that," David replied, "But Shamrock's is probably one of the last places you would go in the big city for information of the kind you're probably looking for."  
  
"And where would you have suggested?" Lavender interjected.  
  
"I can think of several places, but they wouldn't be the best places for three pretty young women like you to be going in."  
  
Scarlet brought her right hand to bear, before slowly balling it up into a fist, causing each of the knuckles in that hand to pop rhythmically, "We are quite capable of taking care of ourselves, but we thank you for your concern."  
  
"Don't mention it," David replied, taking another sip, "And I'm pretty sure you girls could handle anything that was thrown at you. Problem is that would just drum up trouble for you, and get you unwanted attention. You don't want that, do you?"  
  
"I... I suppose not," Scarlet replied, having not considered the problem of accidentally alerting Ranma to their presence, if he didn't already know.  
  
"That is why we are here. You said you can give us the proper direction we need?" Lavender spoke up, pulling the conversation back to business.  
  
David closed his eyes, and raised his chin in a solumn expression. Before speaking, he brought his index finger up, "Patience, grasshoppa. For only true direction come when one know where they are going."  
  
Lavender's face darkened, as Chef began to snicker, "That not... that is not funny."  
  
Scarlet had a better time controlling her humor, and schooled her expression back to seriousness, "But you'll tell us by morning?"  
  
Reservation officer David Redmond's own expression became serious, "I promise that I'll have the information by coming dawn. I'll go and search the crime database right now, in fact. I just need to know this person you're directly looking for."  
  
"And you are assured this would not bring, as you put it, 'unwanted attention'?" Scarlet enquired, narrowing her eyes.  
  
"I have legal access, it wouldn't be anything more than a proffesional inquiry to them." David stated, switching hands with his bottle of beer.  
  
Scarlet nodded, before holding up her hand. Lavender shifted from where she was sitting on the couch armrest, and reached into her trenchcoat, pulling out a manilla folder. She handed it to Scarlet, and then it was handed to the Native American. "Here. It was only able to tell us so much. Perhaps this would assist you more?"  
  
David tilted his head, as he retrieved the folder, "This will do. In the meantime, you girls can take my bed. I usually end up sleeping here in the livingroom or my den anyways."  
  
"We thank you for your hospitality." Scarlet stood up, and bowed.  
  
"Don't mention it. Least I can do for helping break up that little spat I almost got into," David replied, "I'll show you to the room."  
  
___________________  
  
"R.S.... hmph, just the man I'm looking for," David mumbled to himself, as he set the information he had found to print, and polishing off his third beer since he'd been home that night. He then leaned back in his chair, preparing to some sleep, not seeing the flashing instant message that had just come up on his screen.  
  
___________________  
  
"GIRLS, I... uh..." The native American swung the door open, allowing his urgency to overcome his prudence.  
  
Scarlet looked up from the chair she was sleeping in, still clothed, just as Lavender and Chef sat up, quickly grabbing the blanket across their bare chests before they exposed themselves.  
  
Scarlet groaned, "I... apologise. These two tend to forget where they are." She berated herself for allowing herself to fall asleep before the other two did, so that she could have prevented the indecent incident.  
  
"Do you not know how to knock?" Lavender replied, sharply, before drawing one of her custom Jericho 941s, and aiming it.  
  
The Native American quickly shut his door, and apologised from the other side, "Sorry, didn't realize you weren't... decent. Hurry up and get dressed, I'll be waiting outside."  
  
He jogged out of the house, smirking, "I don't think I'll ever wash those sheets again..." 


	6. Season 1, Episode 6

7 Fiancees'  
  
Episode 5   
  
"This episode was brought to you by the spirited energy drink, 'Dynamic'! Now you can be like Steven Segal, and beat a man to watch him die!"   
  
___________________   
  
___________________   
  
___________________   
  
"I presume this has something to do with the information we have requested?" Scarlet enquired, ignoring the bickering going on behind her from her two associates and close friends.  
  
David nodded, heading to his car, "Something like that, we're going to have to head into town to pick up the info, they wouldn't fax it to me. I guess a secure line or something."  
  
"I see," Scarlet replied, heading to her own car."  
  
"Best to take my car," the Native American quickly suggested, nodding over to his Plymouth Barracuda.  
  
The three women frowned at the car in distain. "It only has two doors," Lavender pointed out in a monotone voice.  
  
"Seats raise up in the front to let you in," David pointed out, opening the passenger side, and shifting the seat forward to demonstrate.  
  
"I do not think that is what Lavender was concerned about." Scarlet attempted to clarify.  
  
"I shall refuse to remain in a seat next to her in such cramped conditions!" Lavender stated adimantly, pointing at Chef, who narrowed her eyes, and reached into her suit to pull out her whipping cane.  
  
David blinked, "You two didn't seem so adverse to it last night..."  
  
"Excuse me, but you are not helping any," Scarlet moaned, before speaking in Japanese, "Listen you two. Let's just do as he says. The faster we get this done with no fuss, the sooner we can get on our way and get out of this disgusting waste 'nature'."  
  
Both girls bowed their heads in compliance, before listlessly trudging to the other vehicle. "why don't you sit in the back with one of them, if it's that big an issue?" David enquired, wondering what the big deal was in the first place.  
  
Scarlet turned and looked at her comrade, and her face twitched at the slightly hungry looks the two of them developed. "Just shut up, and take us to where we need to go," the woman with the crimson tipped tresses commanded,stepping into the passenger side after Chef and Lavender got in.  
  
The reservation police officer shrugged, and looked around before mumbling to himself, "It's not that bad out here, is it?" Shaking his head, he entered, and almost immidiately after that, they drove off.  
  
__________________  
  
Even if he was indoors, he continued to wear his hat. The slightly chubby sitting behind the large oak desk with his legs propped up on it loved his hat, it was his definition of style. It's what completed his white suit, wingtip shoes, and pastel maroon shirt; the classy white wool felt casual hat with the maroon band around the base.  
  
The people across from his desk, the Asian man with the pigtail, and the redheaded woman, had no such identifications of their class. Sure, the black suit with the initials 'R.S.' on the pocket with deep red shirt, black socks, and black suade shoes definitely had some style, he would admit. Also, the woman's stone gray business suit with high cut skirt, and the hairstyle that kept her obviously long hair in a bun gave her a distinguishment that most he decided in the country lacked. But they lacked the headgear that was made vogue so long ago by the classic mobs that used to dominate the city of Chicago oh so long ago.  
  
Because of that, they were benieth him, but he was willing to deal with them, if it availed him anything. And since they were beneith him, he thought what they were proposing made them out of their frigg'n minds.  
  
"You have any idea what the hell you're wanting, here?" Regenald 'The Reverend" Dickson enquired, removing his feet from his desk, so he chould sit properly and look at the two directly in the eyes. His bodyguard snorted derisively, as he continued to flip a coin between his fingers with exellent dexterity.  
  
The man known as 'R.S' smiled, "Yes, it does seem a bit ludicrous, doesn't it?"  
  
The Reverend sighed, and stood up, "I had important things to do with my time..."  
  
The redheaded woman stood abruptly with an angry expression at the implied insult. As she did so, the Reverend's bodyguard, a young man in his mid twenties in an off-white suit, pale sun yellow dress shirt, and brown suspenders stepped between the woman and his boss, daring her to make a move.  
  
R.S, sighed, and put an arm up to withstall his associate's actions. "I assure you, this would not be a waste of time. Even your long standing rival, Mitch Copperfield, is willing to agree to an alliance with you, if you would collaborate."  
  
That caused the Reverend to raise an eyebrow, "You got that dick to agree to working with me?"  
  
"You may contact him if you like," R.S. replied, simply.  
  
"And what do I end up with all this?" the Reverend asked, far from convinced, "I mean, if we agree with this 'All under the Heavens' crap you're selling?"  
  
The smirk R.S. wore fell, as his face became completely serious, "Total, and absolute control under your jurisdiction."  
  
"Mitch ain't gonna like that," Dickson stated.  
  
"Mr Copperfield is inconsequential," R.S. stated, flippantly, "You're the one with the majority rule and power around this area."  
  
"Heh", the Reverend turned to look out the window of his twenty second story office, "You probably said the same damn thing to that annoying bastard."  
  
The pigtailed Asian man's face grew angry, as if he had been insulted, "No, I did not."  
  
The Reverend turned just in time to see his reaction, and smirked, "Well, if you're that serious about it... I'll think on it."  
  
"THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!" the redheaded woman proclaimed, no longer willing to be held back. The Reverend's bodyguard moved directly in front of her, smiling sinisterly.  
  
"Emma, please," R.S. commanded, knowing it wouldn't do any help. The woman had a fiery passion that would never be abated, which was what got her her job in the first place, and why he liked her so much.  
  
Unheeding of her associate, she moved to shove the man out of the way to her right in an attempt to approach the Reverend. The bodyguard spun against her shove to his left, before dropping to the floor almost laying on his side, and sticking his left leg straight out between hers, as he kept his left leg bent with the bottom of his foot planted against the floor. His right hand was braced against the floor near his ribs, and his left hand was on the floor in front of his stomach.  
  
Emma responded by tucking her right hand to the side of her waist, while her left hand was extended forward. Her right leg's knee was almost touching the ground, while it was behind her left leg. Her left side was facing towards the Reverend's bodyguard, as her hands were flexed into claws, ready to snag onto anything they were meant to, and tear like an eagle's talons.  
  
"Nick," the Reverend said simply, which caused the young man on the ground to bring in his right leg, and slowly get up while covering his face with his left arm. Emma in turn unflexed her hands, as the other bodyguard stepped back with a haughty smirk. Dickson turned back to his two guests, and placed his hands flat against his desk. "You'll have my answer in two days. Don't think I would simply take this all in stride."  
  
"In truth, I would have questioned your judgement if you didn't, in turn questioning my own judgement of approaching for your involvement." R.S. stood up, and bowed, "You have the means to contact me, I shall await your answer... Mrs. O'Neil..."  
  
Giving both men one last glare, Emma O'Neil turned to follow her associate. The way her back remained tense told them that she was ready for any trechary from behind.  
  
"Oh, one more thing," R.S. said, stopping before the door, "I suspect I'm being followed. If you happen to come across three lovely Asian women enquiring on my whereabouts, I presume you'll know where to direct them..."  
  
The Reverend smiled, "Consider it a friendly courtesy."  
  
__________________  
  
Scarlet looked out the window of the small reservation town, as she attempted to ignore the catty snipes behind her, even if she was sorely tempted to backslap the both of them for embarrassing her.  
  
"Girls, if you don't stop, I'm turning this car back around and we're heading home," David joked, before his face formed a frown.  
  
Lavender was about to retort, before she caught where the Native American's glare fell. "That is the guy from last..." Scarlet started, before she turned an evil glare towards the driver, "What are we out here for?"  
  
"Sorry, I forgot to mention the little side trip I had to make first." David admitted, just before a gun was pressing into the base of his skull.  
  
"Take us back, now." Scarlet comanded, as Lavender flicked the safety off.  
  
"Now hold on a se- Damn!" David quickly jerked the steering wheel, pulling the car into a full 180 degrees. Lavender yelped, as Chef slammed into her from the momentum.  
  
"Sorry 'bout that," David mumbled, as he then quickly turned his American musclecar towards the alley he had seen his quarry rush down through. It wasn't long before they caught up with the black jeep that barreled through the dusty road that lead to the other side of the town.  
  
Lavender brought her Jericho back up to threaten the driver, only to have Scarlet gently push the barrel away.  
  
"[Not while he's driving]" the woman commanded. She realized how much David had struggled to get the car back under control after that abrupt turn. If something were to happen to him, she wasn't sure how well she would fair getting things back under control. "[Just let him do what he needs to do, and we'll beat the seven hells out of him when he's done, understood?]"  
  
Lavender smirked, pulling her gun up, and nodded cheerfully. She turned and looked at Chef, who was smiling just as broadly.  
  
"I'm glad you have things under control," David quipped, concentrating on steering clear of the bumps that could send his vehicle careening out of control. With skill, yet no ease, David managed to keep up with the vehicle more suited for the terrain; twisting and sliding around the road like a wounded snake in pursuit of a field mouse, barely missing the corners of buildings, stray pedestrians, and streetlights, he kept up with a tenacity that his passengers midly admired.  
  
After several minutes of a quickly becoming fruitless pursuit, that admiration wore out. "Lavender," Scarlet turned towards her compatriot, earning her attention. The scarlet tressed woman nodded to the jeep ahead of them, and the woman in the trenchcoat nodded, and began rolling down her window.  
  
"You can handle controlling this vehicle well, I presume?" Scarlet suddenly asked David.  
  
"Heh, these were my training wheels," the reservation cop responded confidantly.  
  
Scarlet nodded, "Good". Without warning, she suddenly grabbed the steering wheel, and turned it sharply. David yelped, as it was forced to turn on the dime.  
  
As it spun, it turned Lavender's side towards the escaping jeep. Her hair swayed with the momentum of the car, as she cooly stuck her cherished gun out the window, and fired two almost causal shots that sped away from their origin. Lavender's aim so keen, that time stood still for each bullet fired, freeze framed just as they exited the barrel. As the plymouth Barracuda turned away, the bullets continued bearing down on the jeep, streaking through the air and leaving their surroundings visually blurred in streaks, before striking their destination's two back tires dead on; perfect holes that rolled with the abruptly flattened tires.  
  
David managed to turn the car into a full 360, just in time to see his tag wobbling down the street. The Native American blinked, before turning his shocked and dumbfounded expression to a bored Lavender, "Thanks."  
  
"[Ass]" Chef mumbled, forgetting her host didn't speak Japanese.  
  
"If you would, officer?" Scarlet gestured to their quarry.  
  
David pulled out of his shock, and quickly put the car in first gear. Tires rubbed against the red clay road, causing the vehicle to waver in place, before it got its grip, and chased after the jeep. The chase ended just outside of town in sparse forrestation where a barely traveled road lead them.  
  
The man from the previous night stepped from the jeep, standing to his full six foot ten. He flexed his heavily built body, strainging muscles against the tight wifebeater he wore. he asually rubbed his wrists, currently wrapped in wrist wraps, like he was prepared for a fight.  
  
"What seems to be the problem... officer?" he sneered, deep voice thumbing in bass.  
  
David stepped from the Barracuda, followed by the girls. "Well... thought I would ask you to pull over, so you can answer a few questions for me." Subtly, the reservation cop reached behind him, grabbing ahold of one of his tomahawks. "I was off duty last night, Rick. Hope you have time to talk now."  
  
With a snort, the taller Native American strode up to the officer, staring down at him with contempt. "No, I don't have any time for you. I hope you're planning on paying for my tires."  
  
"I hope you're planning on paying the ticket for your speeding violation," David retorted.  
  
"[I hope they stop posturing soon,]" Chef whispered to Scarlet.  
  
"Yeah, you can add it to my fine for assaulting an officer of the law," Rick growled, before his fist suddenly flashed towards David's face. The smaller man's hatchet was suddenly parrying away the blow, as the second one flew past Rick's face; the wire on it growing taunt at a short distance, and wrapping around the Thai fighter's punching arm.  
  
Kicking out the taller man's knee, David grabbed ahold of the man's arm, and tossed him best he could., simultaniously unwrapping his hatchet from the appendage.  
  
Rick rolled with the throw, launching at his advisary with a lunging knee. David brought his right foot up, stepping onto the knee, and used it to leverage himself into a backflip, allowing his left foot to jackknife into the taller man's jaw.  
  
As the gigantic Thai fighter staggered, David easily recovered, suddenly swinging his tomahawks by the wires they were attached to. Rick ducked away in time to miss a swipe at his neck, allowing it to slice cleanly through a tree. The second hatchet headed down towards Rick's skull, but was sidestepped and elbowed away, shattering the fragile flint in the air.  
  
David swore at the loss, and swore at his carelessness, when the taller man slammed a meaty fist into his gut, lifting him into the air. The reservation cop grabbed onto Rick's forearm, using it to steady himself for a kick into the other man's gut.  
  
As the air left his lungs, the Thai fighter wrapped his other arm around around the officer's neck, trapping the smaller man's head under his armpit. Just as he was about slam him sideways, he felt the smaller man tapping him on the elbow. "What the hell you want? I'm in the middle of kicking your ass!"  
  
"The girls," David choked out, best he could, and pointed back to his car. Rick blinked, and turned to look at the three women, sitting on the hood of the Barracuda, talking amongst themselves in some foreign language, and paying no mind to the fight. Indignant, Rick dropped David unceremoniously onto the ground, "Hey..."  
  
The girls ignored him, pointing to a bug crawling on the ground, and making distainful expressions.  
  
"HEY, WHORES!"  
  
All three looked up, and though only two understood what he said, all three caught the connotation. Scarlet looked towards her two compatriots, who rolled their eyes, and gestured to the tall man. Almost giddily, Scarlet leapt from the hood of the car, quickly striding forward.  
  
"Oh, so you want a piece of this?" Rick threatened, reeling back his arm for a heavy launching elbow. Scarlet spun back to her left, and flew forward with a leaping Thai elbow of her own. Both collided heavily, their momentums cancelling each other out, and causing them to both fall straight back to earth.  
  
"What the f-" Rick started to shout, grabbing his fractured forearm, and was interrupted by a heavy Thai kick to the ribs, cracking a couple of them. Scarlet then shifted into a deep uppercut, catching the man in the jaw, and lifting him off the ground. But before he could go anywhere, the woman grabbed onto his neck with the fist she just hit him with, holding him off the ground.  
  
"God... damn," both Rick and David whispered, just as Scarlet casually dropped him, allowing the broken Thai fighter to crumble to the ground.  
  
David slowly brought himself back to standing, looking down at the defeated man with more than a little surprise. "Now if you don't mind, we and my associates have much we have to do." Scarlet advised, walking back to the other two women.  
  
"Oh... um, right," David mumbled, before reaching into the downed man's pockets, and finding car keys, "Take my car, I'm going to have to run him to the station real quick, while I pick up the information you girls want. I'll meet you back at my place, you remember the way, right?"  
  
Scarlet turned, and caught the keys tossed to her. With a nod, she turned, and motioned the other two to get into the car.  
  
David waited for the girls to drive off, before turning to look at the slowly recovering potential convict. "Damn bitch, broke my damn arm."  
  
"Don't worry, I'll make it all better," David stated, casually.  
  
"Heh so you're paying for my hospital bill, too? This shit is police brutality," Rick chocked out coughing up a bit of blood.  
  
"That won't be necessary."  
  
"What the hell? My damn arm's broken, and my rib-"  
  
::BLAM::  
  
David reholstered the gun he carried on him that wasn't registered in any official manner.  
  
"The Agency does not tolerate rogues..." 


End file.
